


The Pieces

by Peril_in_Peace



Series: Squeeze My Hand [1]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bad Stuff happens you guys, Dad Yondu, Death, Drowning, Flashbacks, Gen, Immortality, Kid Peter, Tagged for Major Character Death but..., Violence, Vol. 1, but there's a happy ending, canon-divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-13 21:04:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13578918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peril_in_Peace/pseuds/Peril_in_Peace
Summary: Once is a damn miracle. Twice… well, that’s a head-scratcher. Then… then, Yondu figures, after that, is pattern territory.By the time he kills Quill outside Knowhere, Yondu Udonta has been keeping a secret for a long time.





	The Pieces

 

“Cap’n’s gotta teach stuff,” Kraglin shouted to the men. They shouted back, cheering at the prospect of the boy’s blood. Yondu set his jaw, turning away from his arrow at Quill’s neck and trying to ignore the struggles of the green gal in his periphery. 

The captain recalled his words to Horuz on Morag, his assurances that Quill would get what was coming to him.

He’d just hoped… he’d trusted… that Quill was too good to get caught. He’d trained the kid himself, after all. Or at the very least, that he’d figure a way to use that silver tongue to talk his way out of it if he  _ did _ get caught.

“Yondu, please,” Quill said. Yondu stopped. “I can fix this, I swear--”

He shook his head, setting his jaw, and... waited just one more beat for Peter to spit out something slick enough to stay his hand.

Too bad. “I’m sorry, boy,” Yondu said softly.

The crew gathered around them had grown so loud and restless by then, he really wasn’t sure Quill had heard him. Regardless… as much as he wanted to keep his back turned away…

Yondu had to do this right.

He turned and straightened, lifting his chin. And Quill’s face hardened, but his throat bobbed behind the arrow tip as he glanced sideways for just a second at the green girl, then settled back into a stare at Yondu.

Yondu nodded and took a few steps closer. He could at least give the kid a little peace of mind, first. “She ain’t a part of this,” he said, nodding in the direction of the woman Quill’d tried real hard a few minutes ago to give up his life for.  

Peter’s lip twitched.

And the captain whistled.

The room went dead silent.

The arrow only moved a few inches, digging itself into Quill’s windpipe, through his spine, and stopping just short of the bulkhead at his back. Then it pulled out, like a stabbing dagger.

It hovered behind Yondu as he moved almost as quickly as his Yaka, gripping the front of Quill’s jacket and taking some of his weight from the men holding his arms, just as the boy’s head lolled lifelessly onto his shoulder.

* * *

 

**24 Years Ago**

It had taken a good couple of years for Yondu to massage his own proverbial balls back into a shape and size fit to set foot on Knowhere again after what he’d learned about the Jackass. Even still, coming up on approach tied his insides into knots. Seeing that…  _ face _ made him think of that…  _ planet _ . The bones. And suddenly his teeth would start grinding into a dull headache that would take days to go away.

He was surprised. Well and truly surprised, how much the kid had helped. Of course, he’d never say it. Never, ever show it. But--maybe _this_ _one_ … this one might end up surviving, to spite his daddy. And that would be quite alright with Yondu.

Unfortunately,  _ survival _ wasn’t something Ravagers were especially known for, in the long term. Not unless one was very good, or very lucky. And Yondu wasn’t one to leave things up to fortune. He’d have to make the kid  _ good _ . And keep him out of trouble in the meantime.

Which he’d already failed at.

Terrans were delicate. Didn’t take much, he’d realized. He shouldn’t have let the kid tag along at all. But he was letting Kraglin come, and Quill had argued, Kraglin wasn’t that much older than he was… and it was about time he got some  _ experience _ …

Maybe the safest thing was just to lock him up for a few years and let him grow a bit.

But as it was, he  _ had _ let Quill tag along to a consult with Tivan. And for his trouble, Horuz and Half-Nut snatched his music box for a game of keep-away as entertainment on the walk. The kid had fumed, charging Horuz (as if the pup could do a lick of damage) and earning himself a swat across the face.

It hadn’t even been  _ hard _ .

But Peter was small and light and Horuz was big and strong, and the kid had fallen backward, catching his too-big boots on the edge of a holding pool of viscous yellow celestial spinal fluid.

The crack of his skull on the opposite lip of the pool stopped Yondu dead in his tracks a few paces ahead of Horuz; he’d stopped and turned just in time to see Quill slip silently under.

Horuz chuckled. “Well, wasn’t  _ plannin’ _ on solving  _ that _ problem today, but hell--”

Yondu smacked him hard to the back of the head and started peeling off his duster as Kraglin knelt and leaned over the side of the pool. “Can’t see ‘im, Cap’n. Can’t see anything.” The gangly teenager looked back at Yondu, shaking his head. “He ain’t comin’ up, sir.”

Yondu realized he had no idea how long terrans could go without air. He should probably know that.

He unbuckled his holsters and handed his Yaka to Kraglin before diving into the yellow murk. He tried to open his eyes, but the liquid stung, and they squeezed themselves shut. He could only feel around as he kicked himself deeper.

In his head, Yondu tried to keep track of the time. He’d been fast on the surface. Maybe half a minute to strip what he could and jump in. But the liquid was thick and he was moving far too slowly. And far too blindly.

Three minutes.

He could stay down himself maybe one more minute before he’d need to kick back up and get some air. But by then… he’d probably be going back down for the kid’s body. Might already be.

But finally, his fingertips brushed something. He almost missed it, it was so light. Barely there. He stroked closer and realized it was  _ hair, _ and soon his hand connected with the round shape of a head. He felt his way down, gripping the leather collar of a jacket, and kicked hard in a direction he hoped was  _ up. _

He broke the surface, then hefted the boy up with him, shoving him toward the edge of the pool. Kraglin grabbed for one arm, while Horuz had the good grace and judgement to haul up the other. They slid him, weighed down and yellow-tinged, over the raised lip of the pool and onto the dusty road.

Yondu hoisted himself up and watched the kid for signs of life, taking a little bit longer than necessary. Peter’s face and hands had turned a sickly shade of green, yellowed by the drying goo, that left Yondu inexplicably repulsed.

He wasn’t moving. His eyes were slitted open, blue lips parted… but where his chest should be rising--was nothing.

Yondu took a deep breath, as if it would fill the  _ boy’s _ lungs with air, then gruffly pushed Horuz out of the way. He grabbed Quill’s shoulders, and sat him up, holding one arm firm against his chest, right under his drooping chin. With the other, he hit his back, just below the shoulder blades.

“Cap’n…?” He heard Kraglin, but tuned it out, swatting again. Hard enough that he knew if the kid was conscious (alive), he’d be in pain, in  _ tears _ , trying to run.

In fact, Quill suddenly jerked against his arm.

“Thassit, kid. Cough it up,” Yondu murmured, and hit him again. He felt a little vibration against his chest as Peter gurgled a little, struggling.

And finally, he coughed. It was weak, the only power behind it coming from the pounding on his back rather than any actual air in the kid’s lungs. But it was enough. Full of yellow spittle, it was just enough for Peter to follow it up with a little gasp. Which hitched and broke into a louder, stronger, cough.

And the yellow fluid started vomiting out in mouthfuls, choking the kid with every tiny breath he tried to take. His face was purple now, a blend of the airless blue, and the tearful red of pain and fear.

And Yondu kept whacking him. Until the yellow stopped coming and there were finally real actual breaths between the coughs. And even though Horuz snickered behind him, just this once, he would not fault the kid for crying.

If he could cry, he could damn well breathe.

* * *

 

There wasn’t much blood.  Yondu was glad for that. He’d aimed for that. What blood there was, dripped and ran down the front of his coat as he pulled Quill away from the bulkhead a little, then slid him down the wall, gently as he could. Until his body sat up against it, legs out in front of him and arms at his sides.

Yondu knelt down and tried to prop his head up, but it just fell forward again. He brushed the hair away from the kid’s forehead with his thumb. He’d just have to leave it. 

“Cap’n--” Kraglin’s voice broke the silence. Yondu looked up at him, almost surprised to see the wide look in his eyes.

He hadn’t expected him to actually do it. Like Yondu, Kraglin had probably been expecting a reprieve at the last minute. Expecting  _ something _ to happen ending in Peter back with them, or at least with enough forgiveness to be on his way with a warning about  _ next time _ .

Well, that explained the silence, then.

Yondu looked around. None of the men had expected him to do it. Even Horuz, who should, by all rights, have the smuggest of shit eating grins on that hairy face of his, had taken a silent step back, a look of confusion and a little bit of fear in his eyes.

Good.

Now they knew. If he could kill Peter, he could kill any one of them.

The green girl, the Daughter of Thanos… she was the only one with something different in her face. She’d stilled under the hands of the crewmen holding her, but more like an animal playing dead before lashing out than someone defeated.

Her face was hard. Absolutely impassive. Where moments ago, it had been full of emotion, pleading for Peter’s life... Now there was nothing.

But her eyes.

There weren’t many things anymore that Yondu was afraid of. But this woman’s eyes sent a shiver down his spine.

* * *

 

**17 Years Ago**

Yondu jumped the  _ Warbird _ back into normal space near where Quill’s last broadcast originated. Telling him that Kraglin was in bad shape. And that they were being pursued.

Which was saying something. If Krags knew that Peter was flying his baby, it was Quill who’d be in bad shape. 

He probably already was.

The M-ship he found was battered, force fields flickering over hull breaches made by what he could only assume was Kree weapons fire.

Yondu cursed himself. He never should have sent those boys alone. He knew--his brain knew, logically--there was no way he could have known it would get bad… it was supposed to be an easy job, all of the intel was solid. But still…

This was on him, wasn’t it?

Yondu docked the  _ Warbird _ to the  _ Bladed Talon _ quickly, but carefully, trying to ignore the wrenching in his chest.

The red warning light on the airlock felt like a punch to the gut.

The  _ Talon _ ’s cabin was compromised.

Yondu reached for a helmet and secured it before overriding the airlock. He descended the ladder and made his way into the darkened crew quarters, releasing a breath at the sight of the red “eyes” of Quill’s mask.

He moved closer, leaning over the figure on the bunk. Quill was a tall and lanky teenager, having yet to fill into his growth spurts. But even in the dim light, he could tell the hair atop the masked head was too dark.

It was Kraglin.

Yondu looked him over, bandaged up and breathing under the mask. But unconscious. Bad shape, Quill had said.

“Quill?” Yondu called into his comm. If the boy had thought to put his mask on Kraglin, surely he’d grabbed a helmet for himself.

He turned away from Kraglin, satisfied that he was okay for now, and started heading toward the cockpit.

Yondu climbed up, and poked his head through the hatch, checking both pilot’s seats. Finding them empty, he turned, taking the last few steps up the ladder,

Quill was laid out, face down, on the deck.

He didn’t make it.

Yondu pieced it together in his head as best he could.

They’d been attacked. Peter, figuring the worst  _ might _ happen, must have thought it couldn’t hurt to prepare. Put his mask on his unconscious friend. Then went back up to the cockpit to try and pilot his way out of the mess they were in.

They were hit. He stayed at the controls too long, then he tried to reach a helmet. Yondu’s eyes wandered to the emergency station along the rear bulkhead.

But he just didn’t make it, before…

“Dammit, boy,” he whispered, kneeling beside Peter. His head was turned, eyes still open, but lifeless and glassy.

He sighed, and rolled him over before lifting him up over his shoulder.

Yondu carried Quill back up into the  _ Warbird,  _ laying him on one of the bunks, then prepped a med station at another one and went back for Kraglin.

He set Kraglin up, hooked up the monitors and started a scan, then sat down near the foot of Krags’ bunk, waiting for the equipment to do its work. He glanced over at Quill, swallowing at the  _ wrong _ grayness of him. Then he allowed himself a small gesture of affection, patting Kraglin’s ankle with one hand as he fiddled with the little control earpiece of Quill’s mask with the other.

Yondu leaned his head against the tall backrest of the chair and closed his eyes.

He had almost fallen asleep, when a gasp and a muffled bang startled him fully awake. His hand tightened around Kraglin’s calf and he reflexively looked him over, before checking the monitors. But--

Quill was on the floor. Rolled out of the bunk and onto his belly on the deck. His arm was stretched out in front of him and he was gasping, like he’d picked up right where he left off, fighting to reach a helmet and save his own life.

“Son of a bitch,” Yondu breathed, falling out of his chair and onto the floor next to Quill. He rolled him over, hands on his face, slapping him lightly to bring him around.

Peter’s hands came up as his eyes opened. He gripped Yondu’s sleeves like they would keep him from floating away. He was breathing hard (he was fucking  _ breathing _ ) and Yondu could feel his heart hammering far too fast as he pulled the boy up against him.

“I gotcha, kid,” he said. Peter’s grip started to relax.

But Yondu’s thoughts were racing. Flying off in all different directions and diving into dark warrens he’d rather not explore. Caves full of too-small bones, and surrounded by veins of throbbing light.

And there was the deep black hole of a puzzle that had plagued Yondu since realizing the last child he’d delivered was gone. 

Why send for so many? Why  _ make  _ so many… then find them… only to kill them?

Unless the Jackass was looking for something. For one of them to _be…_ _something_. Special.

“Yondu?” The kid’s voice was barely there, coming out as a cross between a whisper and a growl. “I was--”

Yondu shook his head and found himself rubbing Quill’s back, marvelling at the feel of his heartbeat.

“‘S’okay, kid...”

_ You came back _ , he thought.

“Gotchu just in time,” he said.

* * *

 

Yondu stood up and let the men part for him so he could make his way to the woman. To Quill’s friend. A short whistle kept his Yaka at eye level, following along as he came to a stop before her. She stood alone now, still and silent as he men previously holding her gave her space.

“He trusted you,” she said, voice low and dark.

“He stole from me,” Yondu replied. “He knew the consequences.”

“I should kill you.”

“You won’t.” Yondu flicked his eyes toward his arrow. “You could try, but you’d fail. And you wouldn’t make it out of here alive.”

“Maybe I don’t care.” She jutted her chin up pridefully. Yondu smiled sadly and nodded toward the body against the wall.

“ _ He _ did.”

The Daughter of Thanos drew her hands into tight fists and swallowed hard, trying not to look at her dead friend. She failed. And she didn’t look away, until Yondu cleared his throat.

“I said you wasn’t a part of this. And it’s true. You can go. You can have a ship. I’ll even let ya take ‘im with you,” he said.

The men grumbled and raised their voices. Gef spoke up. “Ain’t she got a bounty on her?” Some of the others joined in, starting to clamber for a payday.

Yondu gave a sharp whistle, and the din died down.

“No. Gentlemen, this here weren’t a job. It was justice. Ya’ll got your blood, didn’t ya?”

The group nodded and grumbled in the affirmative. Yondu turned back to the Daughter of Thanos but continued to speak loudly enough, addressing his men. “Then I’m keepin’ my word. Quill was a Ravager his whole life. Justice has been served. Least we owe him is a last request.”

Kraglin sniffed, and lifted his head, crossing his chest with his right arm and lightly, solemnly bringing his fist to his heart twice in a salute. 

And the  _ Eclector  _ rocked and shuddered with weapons impact. The crew scattered. 

* * *

 

**10 Years Ago**

Despite all the blaster fire, the glint of blades and the shouts. The blood… 

Yondu saw this one blinding bolt of orange light in slow motion.

He was watching their backs, covering the rear as they fought their way out. And doing a damn fine job. Most of his men had barely passable aim with their dominant hand, but Quill was an expert shot with both of his blasters at the same time, taking down their pursuers as fast as they rounded the corner to the stairwell.

The shot blazed past Yondu from a guard a few paces in front of him. Krags’d shot the fucker and missed anything vital, winging him in his off-arm. The guard growled and fired back, going wide.

A warning caught in Yondu’s throat as the bolt struck Quill mid-back. For a second, it almost seemed like he’d shake it off. He stood still, his arm still out as if to fire another shot down the stairs. Then he fell, crumpling against the banister.

Yondu rushed down the stairs, catching the way Quill’s mouth was still moving. He blinked at Yondu and squeezed his eyes shut, before opening them again. He was trying to talk, but couldn’t get anything out.

Yondu pulled Peter up and hefted him over his shoulder, falling into a labored run behind Horuz and Retch. Kraglin watched his back and only relaxed his guard when they were finally safely aboard the shuttle.

“Git us home, Tullk,” Yondu shouted toward the cockpit, lugging Quill back to a cot in the rear cargo compartment. Kraglin made to follow, but Yondu waved him off.

Quill was dead anyway. As soon as he’d stopped running, Yondu could hear, could feel that the kid wasn’t breathing anymore. There was nothing for Kraglin to see.

Yet, Yondu laid Peter down. Strapped him onto the cot, then made his way back into the crew compartment, locking the door behind him.

“Quill okay, Cap’n?”

Yondu plastered a neutral expression on his face, and then tried to smile. “Just some kinda stunner round, Krags. Caught him right in the spine, though. He’ll be out for a while.”

And when the transport slipped back into the  _ Eclector’s  _ hangar, Yondu insisted that Peter would be fine. Didn’t even need a trip to the sick bay, he’d said. Instead, he lugged the boy to his own little cabin and dropped him onto his bunk, put his headphones on him and turned on his music box.

Yondu pulled over the chair from the shallow shelf Peter used as a desk and sat down, propping his feet up on the bunk, and settled in to wait.

He hoped he wasn’t wrong. He hoped that this time would be the same.

He hoped the boy would  _ survive _ .

And  _ finally _ , with a second playthrough of  _ Cherry Bomb _ on the air, Quill breathed.

* * *

 

Gamora felt Yondu’s stare at her back as she stepped forward into the galleon’s main hangar. She grudgingly appreciated that he’d ordered the rest of the crew away, giving a modicum of privacy and respect. It was just the captain and the second mate, the scraggly Xandarian called Kraglin.

She gathered from the fallen look on his face… after… despite his words and actions before… that he and Peter had been friends. She could accept his presence, she supposed. Quill did have a life before meeting her and the others.

The  _ Milano’s _ hatch opened, and she could see Rocket’s outline against the light in the cabin. He was armed of course, the weapon practically larger than he was.

That they’d come for her and for Peter. It was humbling. She… she wished that…

Well, she wished they had more time. Despite all she’d said to keep her distance, they fought for her on Knowhere. It was…

She looked down at Quill cradled in her arms.

It was nice. To have friends.

And wrenching. Sickening and brutal. To lose one.

Gamora took a deep breath and walked toward Peter’s ship. She didn’t look back. And when Rocket saw what--who--she carried… she said nothing in response to the look on his face.

“Quill?” Drax asked. Like he was just sleeping. 

She laid him on a bunk then stood up, facing Drax. She shook her head. 

“And you did not take the lives of his murderers?” he demanded. Gamora pursed her lips, fighting her impulse to shout back, to lash out. She wondered if the giant of a man would even understand why… why she didn’t die trying to avenge him. 

“No,” was all she said. Rocket watched from the now-closed hatch, as Drax balled his fists, pushing down his fury, then walked away. Rocket looked like he was going to say something, then closed his mouth, following Drax up to the bridge as Groot lifted off. 

Gamora sighed and closed her eyes, perching on the edge of the bunk. She looked down at Peter. He really did just look like he was sleeping. There wasn’t even that much blood. And the arrow… must have cauterized the wound. It almost looked like there was no wound at all. 

She found herself reaching for his hand, squeezing it once, then relaxing her grip. “I’m so sorry, Peter,” she whispered. 

He squeezed back. 

**Author's Note:**

> I know I have other things to be working on, but I have... I have been getting my head into a Ravager space for "Big Picture," and this happened. All in one day. And hopefully my other works will be better for it... :) 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
